


Blind With What I Can't Forget

by MundaneChampagne



Series: Promise me a Happy Ending [2]
Category: Mass Effect Trilogy
Genre: Demisexual Character, Family, Friends to Lovers, Headcanon Autistic Character, I do love these two, M/M, Posthumous Character, Spectres
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-01
Updated: 2016-11-30
Packaged: 2018-08-12 07:30:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,104
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7925974
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MundaneChampagne/pseuds/MundaneChampagne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A Spectre's life is never routine. But when Saren and Nihlus walk into a deathtrap, it raises new questions about who they are, where they came from, and what the future will hold. Questions no one likes to think about, and even less so when they're fighting for their lives.</p><p>Sequel to <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/7172522">The Measure of a Year</a>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Past

**Author's Note:**

> I wasn't going to do any more with these two. Then I had a very vivid image of Nihlus being spaced during the course of a mission, and just had to explore that idea. And so, this happened. Enjoy.
> 
> I would highly recommend reading [The Measure of a Year](http://archiveofourown.org/works/7172522) first, since it does contain a great deal of headcanon and events that are referenced here.
> 
> In regards to my headcanon of Saren being autistic: I am not autistic. I do my research, but I am human and can fuck things up. If I fucked something up, please let me know!

Every morning, they sparred.

Saren began training him in traditional turian martial arts forms. He would demonstrate the moves, walk Nihlus through them, have him drill over and over and over again, combining moves into patterns.

And finally, they sparred.

Just watching Saren move was beautiful. Keeping up with him was another thing altogether. Saren seemed to possess some preternatural ability to understand space—how to move in it, how to use it against his opponent. Nihlus always finished their sparring sessions panting and aching, and soon enough, he was able to hold on longer than a few minutes.

As Nihlus's skills grew, Saren taught him variations—hand-to-hand, short stick, long stick, knife, blade. One day, Saren did something new, something Nihlus had never seen before, and he had to figure out how to use all his wits and muscle memory to deal with this new thing.

"What was that?" Nihlus asked after Saren let him off the floor.

"A different style of martial art altogether," Saren replied. "Salarian in origin, focusing on speed and misdirection over anything else. You did well in handling it for the first time."

"Teach me?" Nihlus asked, and Saren did.

His favorite, however, was when Saren worked with him on how to counter biotics.

It wasn't just watching Saren's biotics in use. Not in the least. Nihlus loved the challenge of being up against an opponent who so clearly outmatched him. All Nihlus had were his own hands and his own wits to figure out how to defeat an opponent who could move matter just by gesturing. As he learned more and more, Saren was also forced to push his own biotic skills to match him.

Sparring wasn't the only thing they worked on. Saren ran him through case studies, asking him how he would've handled previous operations that Saren had worked on. They hit combat simulators every chance they could get, and Nihlus thrilled as his abilities grew.

There was plenty of chance to put those skills to use. They were assigned new missions frequently. Generally small things that were disproportionately difficult. Nihlus sometimes wondered if the Council _wanted_ him to fail out.

But he didn't. Between Saren's guidance and his own determination, he rose to meet each challenge and come out the other side in success.

There was very little downtime between missions and training. Nihlus had stopped drinking entirely, and very rarely went home with anyone anymore. When he got wind of their next assignment, an undercover gang bust on Illium, he grinned. Illium, as well as being undercover, might offer up some the distractions that he sorely missed.

And then he got the call.

 

They were sitting in the kitchen, Saren going over details of the Illium mission. Nihlus's omnitool lit up.

When he saw the caller's name, he swallowed.

_Minerva Kryik._

"Sorry," he muttered. "I gotta take this."

Saren nodded, and Nihlus answered the call.

"Hi Mom," he said quietly.

" _Nihlus._ It took forever to track you down. I had to go through the military, which eventually got me to the Hierarchy embassy, and then they relayed me to the _Council_ , of all things. Everything was classified until I managed to prove that I was actually your mother and had never abused you in your life." She took a breath. "I'm told that you're training to be a Spectre, Nihlus. Truly?"

"Yeah," he said.

He could hear the smile in her voice. "I knew you could do great things if you put your mind to it. How is it?"

"It's—" He glanced at Saren. "Intense. But good.  I—how is everything at home?"

"Yes, well. That's why I'm calling. Your father's dead."

"Good," Nihlus muttered.

"Nihlus Kryik, if you ever say anything like that again, I will make you regret being born."

"Already do, Mom. Already do." He paused a moment. "What happened?"

"Another drug runner thought he'd gotten too big for his boots."

"Ah." Nihlus wasn't surprised. His father had always been too big for his boots. "What about Cato and Sen?" His brothers.

"They're fine. Shaken, but fine. If I have my way, they'll get out of that damned trade and stay home."

"Right." Nihlus inhaled. "Thanks for letting me know."

"Of course." Her voice softened. "Keep in touch, won't you? It's been far too long."

"Yeah." He paused. "I gotta go, was in the middle of something."

"Alright. I love you, Nihlus. And if you don't call, I will. You can't escape me that easily."

"Never thought I could," he mumbled. "Bye."

He hung up, and after a moment, glanced at Saren.

"I'm sorry," Saren said.

"It's ok," Nihlus said. "We weren't close or anything." He took a breath. "Can we just get back to the mission planning?"

"Yes," Saren replied, and proceeded to bury Nihlus under details.

Nihlus was looking forward to Illium now more than ever. He needed some downtime.

 

Two days into the Illium mission, Saren got a call of his own. He flung himself out of bed, dressed, and strode down the hotel hallway to Nihlus's room. He keyed the door open, and entered without knocking.

"Nihlus. Get up."

His apprentice startled out of his own bed and rubbed his eyes. "Saren. Whatever happened to _undercover?_ "

"It's not important anymore. Vasir's taking over. We've got something more urgent to attend to."

There was another groan from the bed, not Nihlus's voice. A suited quarian sat up next to Nihlus.

Saren's eyes widened, and he glanced away.

"Sorry," Nihlus muttered to the quarian.

"Bad timing?" the quarian asked. "It's fine. I need to be going anyway."

Saren resolutely kept his face still as the quarian man passed him and exited the room.

When Saren looked back at his apprentice, Nihlus had pulled on a pair of pants and was yawning widely. "So what's more important than taking down smuggling gangs?"

"I'll tell you when we're on the ship," Saren said. He paused, wanting to ask and not wanting to ask at the same time. Finally, he gave in. "A _quarian_ , Nihlus? How does that even…work?"

"Special suit programming." Nihlus shrugged, then smirked. "And a little creativity."

Saren tried to keep his brain from conjuring up ideas of what _creativity_ might entail. There were some things he did not want to think about.

 

The entire Council was on video conference in Saren's office. Nihlus sat in a corner, seemingly content to observe. Saren had a datapad in hand, furiously digging through his files.

"You still have Lenn's files?" Tevos asked.

"Of course," Saren said. "I haven't touched them in years, but I have them."

"You remember the work she did on tracking down and eliminating the Nevos Syndicate?" Arall asked.

"I don't forget things," Saren said. "Especially things that nearly killed me." He located the correct folder. "Here we are." He pulled the files up onto a monitor.

"Let's get straight to it," Ianius Sparatus said, looking impatient. "A series of transmission codes was intercepted out in the Kepler Verge. Codes used by the Nevos Syndicate, and not picked up since they were brought down."

Saren sat up. "You think it's the Syndicate? Or merely someone using their codes?"

"It's hard to tell at this point," Tevos said. "Because you have the most familiarity with the Syndicate, and all of Lenn's files on them, we'd like you to go and investigate."

Saren bit his talons. "Consider it done." He didn't like the thought of the Syndicate reforming. That would imply that they'd left someone alive in order to reform it.

Lenn had been famous for her attention to detail. He chewed his talons. He would not disgrace her memory. They would do this right.

 

"Gotta ask," Nihlus said as they pored through notes. "Who's Lenn?"

"Lenn was my mentor," Saren replied. "She died several years ago of old age, which is unusual in our line of work. It's traditional that Spectres inherit the files of colleagues they were close to."

"So you'd inherit my files," Nihlus said. "If I had any."

"Why are you assuming that you'll be the first to go?" Saren said dryly. "More likely, you'll end up inheriting mine. And Lenn's, for that matter." He paused and sat back for a moment. "She was a salarian biotic," he said eventually. Nihlus perked up, always eager for a story. "She disavowed the political role that her gender entitled her to, and instead trained in the very best traditions of salarian espionage. She had a very long and successful career with the Spectres. I was her last apprentice."

_And it came at a time in my life when I sorely needed that guidance,_ he added mentally.

_He remembered when he'd first met Lenn. Ianius had accompanied him to a private shooting range, reserved for Council Spectres. A hooded salarian was the only one there, pumping the targets full of bullets from a large and expensive rifle._

_"Lenn," Ianius called. The salarian paused, and set down the rifle. Saren had no idea what to expect. All Ianius had told him was that "you'll like her."_

_"I have a new apprentice for you," he continued. The salarian grimaced._

_"Do not need another apprentice. Too busy as it is."_

_"That's what you said about every apprentice you've had," Ianius said. He nudged Saren, who stepped forward._

_Lenn's eyes narrowed. "Turian. Uncreative. Only good for following orders."_

_"That's what you said about the last three turians you trained," Ianius said, in a way that suggested he was humoring an elderly relative._

_"Yes," Lenn replied. "Had to beat it out of them. Then they were ok." She pushed her hood back, and turned back to her rifle. "This one has nothing to offer me."_

_As she turned away, Saren caught a glimpse of the back of her neck. His eyes widened. A biotic amp._

_He hadn't been around another biotic in years._

_He held out his hand, gathered the energy in it. Then he reached out, and raised his hand up. Lenn's rifle glowed blue, and lifted into the air. Saren guided it over to its open case, and gently laid the rifle inside. Then, with a flick of his wrist, he shut the case._

_Lenn had turned back to him, and watched the performance with interest. "Biotic," she murmured. "Raw power, control. Not discouraged by grumpy old me. Yes." She smiled. "This one will do nicely."_

"I don't think we were ever friends," Saren continued. "I respected her and admired her, and I think in time she respected me as well."

Nihlus looked down at the datapad. "Oh," he said. After a few moments, he looked up again. "Are we friends?"

"—" Saren hesitated. "I…haven't had many friends in my life." _Aurelia, that one guy from bootcamp, Ianius…_ he wasn't sure if he and Ianius were friends anymore. They'd been very cool with each other ever since they'd fought over Nihlus's future.

"Yes," he finally decided.

"Ok," Nihlus said. "I guess I haven't had many friends either," he added. "I mean, the guys at home I'd hang out with, but they were different. None of them would have my back like you do. No one's ever done that for me, ever."

_Lenn had done that too._

_She made tea his first night, after they'd spent all day sparring. She sat him down at her apartment's table, handed him a cup of tea, and shattered all the barriers he'd been putting up since Desolas's death._

_"Why are you here?" she asked._

_He looked up at her in confusion._

_"Why are you training to be a Spectre?" she clarified._

_"I…" Saren didn't know what to say. "I don't know what else to do."_

_She sat back. "All of my students have had a burning reason for being here. Some are eager to mete out justice in an unjust galaxy, some love the battlefield, some want to serve. So I'll ask again. Why are you here?"_

_Saren had to think about it. Really think about it. Ianius had pushed him into it, yes. He was adrift. He'd resigned his commission and given himself over to grief. He didn't want to go back to his cabal; it'd changed too much after the old kabalim died._

_But there was something else. Something that made him want this, even under his deference to Ianius. Not just doing it because he was told to, but doing it because he_ wanted _to._

_"I…" He took a sip of tea to hide his nervousness. "Something happened to my brother."_

_Lenn clicked her tongue. "Yes. I heard about it."_

_"The artifact we were sent after, it did something to his mind." Saren clamped down on his tones of grief. "He wasn't himself anymore. There was another one too, under the temple."_

_She waited._

_"And…if there was another one," he said finally, "there could be more._

_"I can't let that happen to anyone else," he said. "I can't. There are things out there that we don't understand, things that can hurt us. I don't want anyone else hurt by something like it."_

_"Ahh," Lenn said. "To protect. And prevent. That is important."_

_No one had acknowledged his sacrifice like that before. Everyone had called him brave and selfless, a hero. If he was so selfless, Saren wondered, why was he wallowing like this? If he was so brave, then why couldn't he face waking up in the morning? If he was a hero, why did he feel so worthless?_

_No one had told him that his feelings were important._

They worked through the notes all day, and Nihlus eventually started yawning.

"Go to sleep," Saren said.

"You should sleep too."

"Just a little longer."

Nihlus went, and Saren took the opportunity to open some files of a more personal nature.

There was the report that Lenn had written when she'd recommended his appointment as a Spectre. Saren had always kept it sealed before, but now he had his own apprentice, and he wanted to understand what Lenn had seen in him so long ago.

_Councilors:_

_I hereby formally nominate candidate Saren Arterius for the position of Special Tactics and Reconnaissance Agent._

_In the two years I have known him, Saren Arterius has proven to be diligent, resourceful, and exceptionally skilled in the arts of stealth, combat, and investigation. In addition to these, he also has formidable skills with biotics, and exceptional control._

_He has excelled in all the tasks given to him, and has done so independently and effectively. He has been able to handle difficult situations with delicacy, and always with the galaxy's best interests in mind._

_In light of these accomplishments, I say that he deserves the rank of Spectre Agent, and will be a great asset to the Council._

_Your servant,_

_Lenn, Spectre Agent_

_Postscript: Ianius, keep your hands off of him. He's still grieving for his brother and you are not what he needs right now, or ever._

Saren flicked a mandible. Trust Lenn to be blunt. He wondered vaguely if she'd threatened Ianius; all he knew was that Ianius definitely hadn't touched him again after he was appointed a Spectre. Their relationship had shifted in a different way.

It wasn't something he wanted to think about right now.

Instead, he turned his thoughts to Nihlus. Thought about composing the letter he would write one day.

Nihlus wasn't ready yet. But he was getting closer and closer. He kept blowing Saren away with his original solutions, his determination, his mental acuity. Saren was beginning to think that Nihlus would make a more dangerous Spectre than he.

And these thoughts were accompanied by a bubble of pride.

 

Lenn and Saren may not have left any of the Syndicate members alive, but others connected to it had been harder to touch. An asari investor was one of those, and the reason they'd come to Nevos's capital, Astella.

"Nice," Nihlus said over the com. "Definitely a vacation spot for the future."

"Nevos is like Illium," Saren replied. "Pretty to look at, but if you peel back the skin, there's plenty festering underneath."

"Didn't know you did poetic." He could hear the grin in Nihlus's voice. "I still like it here. You get shady business everywhere, so might as well go somewhere pretty."

Nevos certainly was pretty. Its two moons blazed even in the daylight sky. A warm breeze danced through his fringe. Saren was currently strolling along the waterfront, dodging through the crowds of tourists. Nihlus was in position outside a sporting arena.

He could hear everything Nihlus said through the com wired into his ear. It was a common enough accessory, so it didn't look suspicious. And Saren, who would stand out on Palaven for a number of reasons, including his unusual fringe, pale coloring, and barefacedness, didn't stand out here. All sorts of people came to Nevos—tourists, business people, criminals, and everything in between.

Nihlus, however, could move among crowds like he was born to be there. Which made him ideal for making contact with their target.

There was a thump over the com, and a feminine voice snapped, "Watch where you're going, Taetran."

"Yes ma'am. Sorry ma'am." Nihlus put on a pretty convincing remorseful act. A minute later, Saren's omnitool beeped.

"The bug is active. Good work."

"Meet you in the stands," Nihlus replied, and Saren picked up his pace.

 

A line of drums was set up in the center of the arena. A sand floor was freshly dragged, waiting for the action to begin.

"So what kind of sport _is_ this, anyway?" Nihlus asked.

Saren pulled out a datapad and downloaded the program for the day. "Clacks isn't a sport," he said. "It's more like a martial art, or dance. More performance over competition. You'll like it." He handed the datapad to Nihlus, who pulled up a program that would transcribe everything the asari said, and everything said to her.

"She's just bitching about her bankers so far," Nihlus said, and handed the datapad back.

"The day's still early," Saren replied. "Give her time."

Eventually, the turian drummers took their positions at the large drums. The drummer in the center raised his stick, and pounded down once. The crowd in the stands went silent.

"Welcome, ladies and gentlemen and all guests, to today's performance by the Thracia Colony Clacks Team. And without further, ado: begin."

Two turians filed into the arena. Nihlus's eyes went wide. "They're naked," he said.

"Yes," Saren replied.

The pair stood in silence for a moment, then leapt at each other, coming together in a burst of sound as the metal bands strapped around their bodies met. The drummers struck a rhythm, and the turians danced through it, the music they made through striking out and colliding rising above the sound of drums. _Clack-clack-clack_.

Nihlus grinned, and sat back in his seat. "This is cool," he said. "You're right. I do like it. Can we try this sometime?"

"It's very different from practical martial arts," Saren said. "I never bothered to learn these moves. They're flashy, made for music over taking down an actual enemy."

"I bet you could figure it out," Nihlus said, and went silent, engrossed in the movement and sound.

Saren glanced down at the datapad, in all appearances looking at the program. The transcribed speech from the bugged asari continued to filter in. Saren's eyes flickered over it, occasionally picking up an interesting phrase. _Too much risk to bother with in the long-term…last time the organization went belly-up…that volus is going to pay…_

Nothing telling, nothing yet. Nothing to connect her to a reborn Nevos Syndicate, or any reason to believe that she was putting funds into any major criminal enterprise.

But, as he'd said to Nihlus, there was still plenty of time in the day.

And a few hours later, his ears were beginning to ring from the sound of drums and metal clacking against metal. And there was still nothing from the asari.

"You ok?" Nihlus asked, looking at him sideways. "You look like you could use a break."

"Yes," Saren replied. The sun was beginning to sit lower in the sky. Nevos had a short period of daylight, but the long evening hours were good for the famous nightlife that drew tourists from all over the galaxy.

He passed Nihlus the datapad, and headed out the nearest vom. Once away from the sound, he took a deep breath, clearing his mind and trying to make the thumping in his head leave. He nibbled on a talon.

His onmitool beeped. Saren quickly pulled it up. The bug had stopped transmitting. Likely the asari had found it and disposed of it. It put an end to their easy surveillance.

Saren did another quick scan through the conversations they'd recorded. Nothing. Nothing even remotely likely. The asari had an administrative assistant with her, and had been quietly conducting business throughout the day. Saren concluded that it was unlikely that they'd missed anything major.

Looks like the day had been a bust.

He sent a quick message to Nihlus, who responded that he hadn't found anything likely either. "I'll meet you in a few hours," Nihlus added in his message. "One more avenue I want to check out."

Saren retired back to his ship, and was brewing a cup of tea when Nihlus stormed in, out of breath.

Saren looked up. "I thought you were pursuing 'other avenues'."

"I am," Nihlus said. "I just need one thing—can I borrow one of your poisons?"

"I hardly see how murder will help us gather intel—"

"Not that kind of poison," Nihlus brushed him off. "Look, just let me at your stash, I promise I'll replace it later."

Saren nodded once, and Nihlus fairly flew into the office, and flew out again with a container. "Later!" he called over his shoulder as the airlock closed.

Saren just shook his head, and went back to his tea.

 

Nihlus didn't return until the early hours of the morning.

"Where were you?" Saren asked. "I thought you were working on the investigation. You said 'a few hours'. If you were out at a bar—"

"I _was_ working on the investigation," Nihlus snapped. "I don't spend every possible night drinking, thank you very much."

"And what did you find?"

"Nothing," Nihlus muttered, looking at his feet. "All that time and effort for nothing. That's the gist of it."

"What did you try?"

Nihlus plopped down in a kitchen chair and put his feet up on the table. A glare from Saren, and he took them down again, and slumped into the chair instead. "Her assistant," Nihlus said. "She's overworked, underpaid, and really stressed out. And she happens to like turians."

Saren's eyes narrowed.

"So I figured she'd be a decent target. She was handling all the information today, seems like she'd know everything that investor is up to. She took me back to her place. Didn't get anything good, even with the meld. Some asari will let things slip, but all I got from her was boring stuff."

"You _melded_ with her?" Saren was outraged. "You let her into your _head?_ She could've found out everything about this investigation—"

"I've been with asari before, I know how to keep them from seeing stuff they shouldn't," Nihlus snapped. "Besides, I poisoned her afterwards. She'll wake up in the morning with no memory of this at all."

"There's no guarantee of that!" Saren paced around the kitchen. "The effects of that compound aren't exact, there's all sorts of things that could go wrong. Spirits, Nihlus, I cannot believe you'd be so careless!"

"You think I left any trace behind?" Nihlus yelled. "As far as she's concerned, she'll just be waking up alone with a bad headache!"

"Seducing a target is not a valid way to gain information!" Saren said. "It leaves you too vulnerable to chance!"

"I'm sorry," Nihlus snarled. "You taught me hand-to-hand and you think _I'm_ the vulnerable one?"

"I would never stoop to such a sloppy tactic!"

"Maybe if you gave it a try, you wouldn't be such a grouch all the time!" Nihlus retorted, then stopped, his eyes wide.

"Shit. I'm sorry. I didn't mean it like that." Nihlus deflated, sinking back into the chair. "I know you're not interested in sex, that's ok, and I was a dick just now. I'm sorry."

Saren deflated as well, leaning up against the kitchen counter. He and Nihlus really were getting somewhere, he thought. Nihlus had never stopped and apologized in the heat of the moment before.

And another thing. He wasn't much interested in sex, yes, but he hadn't ever said anything on the topic to Nihlus. Saren made a mental note to figure out how Nihlus knew.

"I just worry," Saren said, apologizing in his own way. "Your affairs are going to get you into trouble one day."

Nihlus sighed. "I know."

"You were the one doing the poisoning tonight. That may not always be the case."

"I know." He looked up. "I did hide my traces. I erased all the video footage and cleaned up her apartment. I also took the liberty of breaking into her computer systems. She has all the data on her boss's ventures. There was nothing, Saren, absolutely nothing. If the Nevos Syndicate has reformed, then she isn't a part of it, and probably has no idea." He sighed. "Dead end, all of it."

"All right," Saren said. "We'll look into some other leads. I've got a few ideas of where to go next."

Nihlus paused. "Those codes could just be a random coincidence."

"I don't trust coincidences," Saren said. "And neither did Lenn."


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heyy! I hope everyone enjoys the fight scene that was kicking my ass for a good month. Soon enough, we'll get back to my favorite part, which is Two People Talking in a Room.
> 
> Mad shouts to ThreeWhiskeyLunch for helping me unfuck this chapter!

Another few weeks of investigation turned up nothing. Nihlus had crawled through a vent in a corporate building, gotten stuck there during a powerdown for routine maintenance, and was only able to escape some six hours later. Saren had tossed a troublesome asari out a window, and later learned that said asari actually had a price on her head. Saren and Nihlus ended up collecting her from the gardens below the window and taking her to the Citadel, where her injuries were treated and C-Sec charged her with money laundering and conspiracy.

It was an eventful few weeks. But it led them no closer to finding the source of the suspicious transmission codes. 

Nihlus yawned over dinner one night. Saren had been pushing them hard, and it was beginning to take its toll on both of them. "Let's face it, Saren. There is no Nevos Syndicate, not anymore. Those codes are something else entirely. We should just go and check out where they're being transmitted from."

"I…would be reluctant to do so," Saren admitted. "Until we have a better idea of why someone is broadcasting old Syndicate codes. We would be going in blind."

"This is getting us nowhere," Nihlus said. "We'll never find out unless we investigate directly."  

Councilor Sparatus agreed.

"I'm starting to think you're stalling, Saren," the Councilor said.

Saren crossed his arms. "I'm not stalling. I'm being thorough."

"I could've told you a week ago that you're wasting your time. You're a Spectre. You're trained to handle dangerous situations."

"I'm trained not to be stupid, Ianius," Saren replied. "Going out with no idea of what we're facing is stupid."

"Damnit, Saren, do I need to order you to do this?"

Saren sighed, uncrossed his arms, and bit a talon. His talons had been taking a beating over the past few weeks. "No. You do not."

"Good to hear it. I look forward to your findings."

 

The monitor pinged.

"I can't pick up any life signs," Saren said. "This level of shielding is odd, especially for a derelict space station."

"In the middle of nowhere," Nihlus added. "That's transmitting your mysterious codes on a loop. Definitely smells suspicious."

"I don't like this."

"That makes two of us," Nihlus muttered. "Look, I know how you feel about walking into stuff without knowing what's there, but I don't see any other choice."

"No."

"So what do you want to do then?" Nihlus threw his hands in the air.

"I meant that no, there is no other choice," Saren said. He sat back in his chair. "I'm not sure there is any effective plan we can come up with for this situation. I'm going to suggest that we dock, board, and take our chances."

"Sounds good to me."

 

The ship shuddered as it docked, and the airlock hissed open.

They were greeted by a dark room.

And then there was a slam from a circuit breaker, and the lights came up. The room was stark, white, empty.

There was a krogan standing there with a shotgun on his hip, waiting for them.

The krogan spoke first.

"You're not who I was expecting."

"Who were you expecting?" Saren asked.

"A Spectre. A salarian, by the name of Lenn."

Nihlus turned his head slightly, looked at Saren from underneath his helmet.

"Lenn died several years ago," Saren said, his tone giving nothing away.

"You're Spectres too, then?" the krogan said. "You will have to do."

He drew his shotgun and fired.

Saren's barrier and Nihlus's shielding flickered to life, deflecting the shots away. Nihlus had his own pistol out in an instant, taking shot after shot in hopes of wearing down the krogan's own shielding. Saren threw a warp, but the krogan stepped back, Nihlus's shots pinging off his shield, and the door into the room closed.

A loudspeaker overhead crackled to life. "Spectres. Two turians. The one in white is a biotic."

"Fuck," Nihlus said.

It was impossible to tell what Saren was thinking under his helmet. "They wanted Lenn," he said after a second. "Whoever was behind this knew that she would be sent to investigate possible Syndicate activity. This was a trap intended for Lenn."

"And we fell into it," Nihlus murmured. He turned to the station's airlock, only to find it securely locked down. "Guess we'll have to deal with this, one way or another."

On cue, the door opened and they were greeted by a group of mercs in varying states of shoddiness. The new arrivals didn't bother saying anything, just opened fire.

There was no cover, no way to dodge the bullets. Nihlus and Saren wordlessly drew together, their barrier and shield combining to save them from the onslaught. Nihlus plugged away on his pistol, taking the mercs down one at a time. Saren's singularity pulled the mercs together in a flailing group, leaving them an easy target for Nihlus to toss in a grenade.

There were more. No unified fighting force—they had to be freelancers, Nihlus figured, brought here just to kill some Spectres. He and Saren forced their way forward, into a hall. They kept at each other's backs, covering each other. For such a ragtag bunch, the mercs were well equipped. A krogan or two, a number of batarians, some turians, asari—one lone human, who was killed quickly enough.

And then Saren wasn't at his back anymore. Nihlus quickly realized that they'd been separated—a daring turian had got between them, wedged them apart. Nihlus spun around, shot the turian in the gut, and turned back to confront an asari, who was carrying a very large grenade launcher.

He lunged forward, crouching and plowing into the asari, grabbing her waist and pushing her down. He kicked the grenade launcher away, put a bullet in it—so no one could pick it up and try to use it—shot the asari and rolled forward, trying to free himself from the press of mercs.

He finally broke through. There was plenty of corridor in front of him—and a maintenance panel in the wall.

Nihlus turned back to the mercs and held up a hand. Puzzled, they hesitated for a moment.

"Hey," Nihlus said. "Wanna hear a joke? So a krogan walks into a bar and says, 'I'm gonna kill a Spectre. Who's with me?'"

The mercs stared. Finally, someone said, "Then what?"

"Still working on the punchline," Nihlus said, pulled the panel open, and vanished into the duct before anyone could fire another bullet.

He could hear Saren snort into the com. Nihlus crawled into the duct as quickly as he could, hoping the mercs wouldn't be desperate enough to follow him. He pulled a grenade from his belt and tossed it over his shoulder, just in case. His helmet filters closed to absorb the sound of the explosion. When they opened back up again, there was silence behind him.

Good. He had a little time to breathe. Nihlus pulled up his omnitool and found that he could easily run lifeform scans from inside the station. There was Saren, specially tagged in his scan, fighting a horde of oncoming mercs. It looked like Saren was being driven back through the corridor, but the mercenary lifesigns were winking out for every step back Saren took.

The krogan wasn't among them.

"Saren," he said. "Everything under control?"

The com fizzed. "For the moment."

"Good. I managed to run a scan. There are no others besides the ones you've got. You get rid of them, we can find the krogan and take him down."

A gunshot. "I could use some help."

"Give me a few seconds." Nihlus scooted through the vent, checking the scan on his omnitool, getting himself as close to Saren as he could. When he was in range, he slammed the butt of his gun down, popping out a ceiling panel. He pulled a grenade out of his belt and dropped it through the hole, right into the center of the mercs.

An explosion. Nihlus pulled up his omnitool again. Only a few lifesigns left. He poked a few buttons, primed an overload signal. When he released it, he could hear the sparks from the mercs' hardware as everything they had died for a brief moment.

It gave Saren the edge he needed. A moment of silence, then a scream and a thump. Nihlus grinned to himself. Many people underestimated how well a biotic attack could quickly kill.

"All clear." Saren's voice came through his com.

Nihlus dropped through the hole he'd made, managing not to land on the bodies. He straightened up. Saren's armor was covered in numerous colors of blood. Even with the helmet, Nihlus could picture his facial expression right now. Annoyance. Disgust.

"Right." Nihlus cracked his knuckles through his gauntlets. "That's this lot taken care of. Now where's our krogan?"

"You didn't find him on your scan?"

"Nope. Looks like he vanished somewhere and let the hirelings have all the fun. Coward."

"We need to find him," Saren said.

"He's right here," the krogan said.

They turned. The krogan was standing in an adjoining corridor. His shotgun was gone.

"I don't appreciate being called coward," the krogan said, advancing a step. "Like Spectres aren't cowards. They tear the world down, and never face the consequences. Would you be afraid if you had to answer for what you've done?"

He pulled up his omnitool and hit a few buttons, and behind Nihlus, a force field flickered to life, cutting him off from Saren.

"Saren Arterius, I know you," the krogan continued. "One of Lenn's, weren't you? One more honed by Lenn into a cutting edge, released into the galaxy to continue her bloody legacy. But you. I think you've outpaced her in brutality. Everyone knows the name Saren Arterius. And not for his daring adventures, but for all the hurt he's caused."

Nihlus turned back to look at Saren. His mentor stood like a stone, not moving, just facing the krogan.

"I don't know you," the krogan continued, gesturing to Nihlus. "But I can guess. You're his student, aren't you? Being cut to the same luster, I'd say. Looking to one of the bloodiest killers in the galaxy for guidance. Why did you want to be a Spectre, child? Were you swayed by tales of justice, of making the galaxy a better place? Because everything you've heard to that effect is a lie. A lie written in the blood of everyone the Spectres have killed along the way."

A quiet voice came over Nihlus's com. "Do not react. You must never let an enemy see if they've goaded you."

Nihlus clicked a mandible in acknowledgement.

Talkative for a krogan, this one. Time to end that.

Nihlus raised his pistol, and fired.

The shot glanced off the krogan's shielding. With a roar, the krogan charged and Nihlus's eyes widened. He flung himself away as the krogan hit the barrier, only to rebound and come back at Nihlus.

There was no time to aim. Nihlus quickly holstered his pistol and dodged under the krogan's arms, coming out behind him and lunging out in a quick strike before the krogan could react. All of Saren's hand to hand training kicked into his brain, but now he wasn't fighting Saren. He was fighting a much larger opponent, a quick and a deadly one, who was determined to kill him.

He traded a few blows with the krogan, trying to size his opponent up, become familiar with his style. Only once did he dare glance back at the shimmering barrier. Saren wasn't there.

On cue, Nihlus's com clicked on. "Trying to disable the barrier. Are you ok?"

"He's fast," Nihlus said, leaning away from an attempted blow. "But I can hold him. For now."

"Good." Saren sounded breathless. "I've tried all the standard programs, but this is not working. I'm not sure how to take this down."

Saren had never been a great hacker. Nihlus, who had some skill in the area, tried to teach him more than once. "Find a computer terminal," Nihlus gasped as he evaded a swing by mere inches. "You should be able to crack into the station controls from there."

The com fizzed as Nihlus tried headbutting the krogan. It mostly succeeded in setting his own head ringing.

"I don't know how to break into this." Saren's voice was frustrated.

Nihlus groaned. "Tell me what you see."

Saren described the screen while Nihlus and the krogan fought, Nihlus backing down the corridor to evade the onslaught. The krogan just kept coming.

"Ok, listen to me," Nihlus said, and gave directions. The krogan caught him in the cowl, and he winced, but kept talking Saren through things as he hit the ground and rolled between the krogan's legs, trying to catch him behind the knees. One strike connected, and the krogan stumbled forward, letting Nihlus spring up and ram into his back, pushing him into a wall.

"You're good, Spectre," the krogan said. "But think about things." He pushed himself at the wall, and struck back at Nihlus. "Is this really how you want to spend the rest of your life? Fighting at the Council's behest?" Nihlus ducked under his arms and snagged an arm around the krogan, trying to pull him down. "Inflicting yourself on people who just want to live and let live?" They ended up on the ground, struggling to gain the upper hand. "I know where you're from, Taetran. I know that accent. I know how your people feel about the Hierarchy, feel about collaborators like you."

Nihlus rolled away and pushed himself back to his feet. "What the fuck is your problem?" he asked, crouching down, lowering his center of gravity to prepare for the krogan's next move. "You go on and on about Spectres, but setting up a death trap and hiring a bunch of people as cannon fodder doesn't seem any better." He blocked a strike, used the momentum to slip away and circle behind his opponent.

"Nihlus—" Saren's voice came through the com.

"Nothing to compared to the atrocities that Spectres have committed!" the krogan snarled. "Nothing like that bitch Lenn, who didn't see people as people and killed because it was easier than solving problems. Who would bomb a city and walk away! Who would—"

"Nice chip on your shoulder," Nihlus said, beginning to pant. This fight was quickly becoming one of most intense he'd ever fought, including all of his spars with Saren. Time to end this. "Saren, have you got the barrier down yet?"

"Almost—" The krogan caught Nihlus in a grapple. "You're halfway across the station, Nihlus. It will take me a little while to get there."

Nihlus let his body go loose and was thrown to the floor by the krogan. He rolled back to give him some space and pushed himself up. "Right. Let me know when you're good." He rolled his shoulder, wincing when it twinged. This was getting more dangerous by the moment.

Nihlus drew his pistol again, and letting out a scream, charged the krogan. The move took the krogan by surprise, and Nihlus was able to get past the limits of his shield. He stuck his pistol to the krogan's lightly armored waist, and fired, ducking away as quickly as possible.

The krogan simply stood there. Nihlus held the gun at the ready, breathing hard.

The krogan pressed a hand to his waist, blood running out from underneath.

Nihlus estimated that the bullet had hit at least two redundant organs.

"Saren?" he whispered into the com.

"—" Saren's reply was drowned out as the krogan screamed, and charged him.

Nihlus was bowled over by the oncoming fury. He somehow stayed on his feet, but was pressed back down the corridor, all his senses being pushed to the limit. The krogan had no care for himself anymore, no care for technique—he would kill himself in order to take Nihlus down.

Bloodrage.

"Saren! He's gone into bloodrage. I can't—" He wrenched his arm free of the krogan's grip. "—fuck—" He was driven back further and further. "—Saren, there's no time!"

"Nihlus! Just hold on. I will get there."

"Fuck. Saren—" The krogan was everywhere. Nihlus couldn't keep up. A open handed blow caught his face, wrenching his neck and sending a spike of pain down his spine. Too much—it was too much—

Nihlus blinked for a second, remembering the station's layout and trying to figure out where they'd ended up. "Saren. I think there's an airlock—far starboard side—how far away from me?"

"Fifteen meters down the hall. Nihlus…you can't be thinking…"

Nihlus's frantic brain quickly formed a plan. "Here's what we do. I lure him into the starboard airlock, then you open it."

"You'll die!"

"Yes, but then we get him! Better one of us dies than both of us."

"Nihlus, I can't let you—"

"It's ok." He attempted to give a small laugh. "Never expected to live past twenty, anyway." The krogan caught him, and he nearly fell, ended up deflecting off the wall. "It's the only way, Saren. You'll never make it in time. But we can end this!"

"Absolutely not!"

"You have to!" Nihlus screamed. "On my command, open the airlock. I can't—there's nothing else I can do." He retreated down the corridor further, glancing over his shoulder for the airlock.

"Damnit, Nihlus!" Saren shouted back.

"I'm almost there," Nihlus said. "Get ready."

 

Saren could only stand by the computer terminal and watch, helpless, as Nihlus was pushed further and further back by the krogan. A krogan in the bloodrage—nobody trained for that kind of situation because it wasn't the kind of situation anyone could live through.

And Nihlus knew it.

Saren, his hands shaking, pulled up the controls for the station's airlocks. He tried to say something, anything—let Nihlus know he was ready, reassure him—but the words stuck in his throat.

He could feel the blood rushing through his head. His heart was in his throat. _My hand on the trigger._

 _Spirits help me, I love him_ , Saren realized. _And if he dies by my hand, I will not be able to live with myself._

He'd already had to kill a loved one in his lifetime, and it was just like this. Watching only through a monitor, his hand on a button, scrambling desperately for the words to say—the words, the words that wouldn't come—his heart pounding, a scream wanting to rip out of him—

How could he go through that again?

Life without Nihlus, without his bright and capable student who'd burst into his life and given Saren someone to believe in for the first time in ten years—

How could he do this?

 

They were in the airlock, the krogan so consumed by rage that he didn't realize what was going on. He advanced on Nihlus—

"It has to be now!" Nihlus screamed. Would Saren—?

And they were blown out of the airlock. Nihlus pushed himself away from the krogan, sending them in opposite directions. The krogan could only flail helplessly as he bounced off the side of the station. Nihlus just kept floating further away.

He inhaled, catching his breath. Through his helmet's visor, the station looked very small and far away.

 _So this is it,_ he realized. _There's no way Saren will be able to locate one warm body in the vastness of space._ Especially as he drifted further and further. _Assuming the life support remains intact, I have maybe a few hours._

_I never told Saren_ _—_

Told him what?

 _Thank you,_ Nihlus decided. _Thank you for being my friend, thank you for giving me a home, thanks for believing in me and giving me something to work for. Thank you for standing up for me, and never giving up on me. And I'm sorry I didn't repay it that well._

_But you'll be able to get off this station, and live. I guess that's the best I could do._

He hung in the void of space for what felt like an eternity, counting the time through each inhale and exhale. _My family's not gonna get my body,_ he realized. The day they'd cremated his little brother flashed into his brain. His whole family there at the pyres, and so many neighbors because a lot of people had died of the sickness. His father, holding the tiny body that was wrapped in cloth, handing it to his mother, who placed it on the pyre and stepped back. Him and his sister sitting there, the heat of the flame on their faces.

And then he thought of what must've happened the day his father was burned. Cato and Sen would've carried his body, his mother would've been veiled in mourning for her mate. That would've been all, because he was here, and Ila had left long ago, and his little brother was dead.

 _I hope my mom doesn't take this too hard._ But she would, and Nihlus knew there was nothing he could do about that.

Nothing he could do about anything now.

And then he saw something—Saren's ship, pulling around and facing him. And Saren, fully suited up and standing in the airlock, his hands glowing blue. And there was a pull, and Nihlus drifted in. Saren caught him, and Nihlus sagged into his arms, grinning stupidly.

"You found me," he said. "How'd you find me?"

"There's a tracker in your hardsuit." Saren's voice held a multitude of emotions that Nihlus couldn't identify. "Did you really think I wouldn't come for you?"

"A tracker? That's smart. You're smart." Nihlus's knees gave out.

Saren tightened his embrace, holding Nihlus up. "Can you walk?"

"Dunno."

Saren closed the airlock, and pulled Nihlus onto the ship. Nihlus let himself be dragged along. His muscles felt like water and all he could think about was Saren's arms around him.

Saren dragged Nihlus into his room and set him down on the cot. Nihlus slumped back against the wall and pulled off his helmet, enjoying breathing air that wasn't stale. Saren pulled up the chair from Nihlus's desk and sat across from him, pulling off his own helmet. "Are you injured at all?"

"No," Nihlus said. "Just gonna hurt like hell in the morning." A manic grin spread across his face. "We _did_ it. A fucking station full of mercs intent on killing a Spectre or two, and we finished them all and got out alive."

A small smile crossed Saren's face. "Yes," he said, then stood. "You need sleep. We both need some sleep. The report to the Council can wait."

When he was gone, Nihlus removed his armor and collapsed onto his cot. Sleep took him quickly.


	3. Future

"As far as I'm concerned, you are a Spectre today," Saren said. "You acquitted yourself impeccably. You took the best of a bad situation, and made use of it. You helped us get out of there alive."

Nihlus just looked at him.

"However," Saren continued. "The Council does not see it that way. They're going to want you to complete a number of solo missions before they'll consider your induction."

"Solo missions?" Nihlus broke his silence. "But we've been working together so well."

"Spectres work alone, for the most part," Saren said. "Sometimes people will partner up, or be grouped together for larger assignments, but that is rare. I need to know that you can handle missions on your own."

Nihlus looked down at the table. "Ok."

"There are other aspects of your training I've been neglecting as well," Saren continued. "Investing and budgets. While we get a stipend from the Council, most of the equipment needed for our job is more expensive than that. You will need to learn how to manage money."

"The Council can't even equip its own fucking agents?"

"There have been…disputes, about how much the Spectre program should be funded by tax revenue. It is simpler for us to finance the bulk of things ourselves. You won't be able to afford a ship right out of the gate, for instance. You will have to make do until you can purchase or rent one yourself."

"Yeah, I…ok."

Saren leaned forward over the table. "Don't worry about any of this today," he said, trying to make his voice soothing. "Take some downtime." What was bothering Nihlus?

Nihlus just retired into his room without a word. 

 

"You should eat," Saren called through Nihlus's door.

"I'm not hungry," Nihlus said, curling up into a tighter ball. Whatever Saren made smelled delicious, but his stomach was tied in knots and at times like this he preferred the sensation of hunger.

A pause. "Do you want something lighter?"

"I dunno. Maybe." Sometimes Saren would do that—find something small for Nihlus at times when he felt like never eating again.

He appreciated it. It was just one more way that Saren understood him that few others did.

Nihlus eventually rolled out of his cot, and poked his head into the kitchen. Saren had an absurdly large pot of…something…on the table. There was an empty plate waiting for him.

Nihlus sat down and dished some out. Just a little. Enough to keep him going for the night.

Neither of them spoke. Silence was comfortable for both of them.

Eventually, though, Nihlus broke it. "What did the krogan mean when he talked about Lenn bombing a city?"

Saren paused, his fork halfway to his mouth. He slowly set the utensil down. "I had to go back through her files," he said slowly. "That incident happened before I knew her."

Nihlus waited.

"His name was Khell Wraxx," Saren said eventually. "Another member of his clan had ties to terrorist groups, and all the evidence pointed to a big attack being planned in Council space. Krogan clans are very insular. According to her files, Lenn couldn't determine how many clan members were a part of the plot. So she bombed their encampment on Tuchanka."

"Fuck," Nihlus muttered.

"Yes," Saren replied. "Women and children were killed."

"Children…" Nihlus repeated. He felt sick all of a sudden. The smell of their food just made it worse. He pushed his plate away.

"That doesn't bother you?" he asked after a moment. "I mean, I know it's technically legal cause a Spectre did it, but that doesn't bother you at all? I mean, for fuck's sake, the krogan called you more brutal than Lenn. None of this stuff bothers you?"

Saren stared off into space. "I know what I am, Nihlus. And I have to live with it. Spectres have to sleep at night somehow. And I…"

He looked down at his lap. "When I watched the missiles hit Temple Palaven, I learned something. I learned that no matter what kind of suffering there is, life goes on. And I decided that it was better that way, that even if someone had to end up hurt or dead, that if the galaxy kept turning and was made safer for all life within it, then that hurt was justified."

Nihlus stared, riveted by the look on Saren's face. Anger, frustration, resignation.

"I don't like it," Saren finished. "But I've seen it over and over again. And I sleep at night because I don't have a choice. Because someone has to do these things. And that's what Spectres are for. We're the ones who cause some hurt in order to spare much more hurt."

"I just—…That could've been me. My family, my home," Nihlus said. "You've seen it, how many times I get called 'terrorist' just cause of where I'm from. If a Spectre had reason to believe…" He trailed off.

Saren inclined his head. "I know. We all have to decide for ourselves, how far we're willing to go. I don't believe in killing someone without a reason. But sometimes, it's not hard to find a reason."

"Yeah," Nihlus muttered.

"Take some time to think about it. Decide for yourself what you would and would not be ok with doing. But I need you to understand something: if you decide that you don't want to continue training because of this, it is not a failure on your part."

"Is it a failure on yours?" Nihlus asked. "That you're willing to…?"

Saren was silent for a while. "I don't know."

"It must've bothered you," Nihlus said. "That you went and found it in those files."

"I suppose…" Saren was rarely at a loss for words like this. "It is also important to remind one's self of the consequences of our actions."

Nihlus sighed and sat back in his seat. Saren seemed to have lost his appetite over the conversation, and after a few minutes of silence and not eating, Saren got up and put their plates in the sink.

He didn't like seeing Saren this way. Usually so resolute, seeing him so unsure about things put cramps in Nihlus's stomach. He drew his feet up onto the chair and curled around himself. "What would happen to me," he asked, "if I decided to stop training?"

Saren didn't turn away from the sink. "I don't know." He paused. "Sparatus once suggested Blackwatch, or some special ops group. You would have the final say, of course."

"I'd probably never see you again."

Saren stacked the dishes, now clean, into a cupboard. "Probably not."

"I don't want—" He paused, reevaluated what he was going to say. "I don't think doing what Spectres do is a failing."

"No?"

"Yeah. Cause from what you said, you were just like me when you were training. Not having a place to fit in. And if we can fit in here, and maybe do a little bit of good in the process, then that's not so bad."

"Maybe not," Saren eventually said, and they didn't talk about it anymore.

 

The next few months zoomed by, or so it seemed to Nihlus.

He worked his way through a series of solo missions, completing each one without trouble. He knew Saren was sending video back to the Council; he always made sure to snark a little at his enemies, mostly for Sparatus's benefit. It came with the side benefit of amusing Saren. Nihlus actually saw him laugh for the first time when he managed to insult a salarian's entire family line with a well-placed hand gesture.

Saren taught him money stuff. Nihlus yawned through the math, and jumped at the chance when Saren offered to teach him piloting in exchange for cooperation at the budgeting lessons. Within a few weeks, Saren would frequently leave Nihlus at the helm when they were travelling.

Sometimes though, Saren would join him in the cockpit, and they'd either sit in companionable silence, or discuss whatever was on their minds: the latest mission, galactic politics, cuisine, whatever.

Those were probably the best few months of Nihlus's life.

His name day came and went. Last year, Saren hadn't acknowledged it, but this year, Nihlus found a shiny new pistol set on his cot when he came back from gathering intel. He smiled to himself, and added it to his armory. Saren didn't say a word about it.

But there was still an anxiety in the back of his brain. All this was leading somewhere. Leading to the day when he'd be inducted as a Spectre himself, and would be sent out on his own.

It scared the hell out of him.

All too soon, the months faded away, and it was time once again for Saren's pilgrimage to the memorial on Palaven.

 

They stood in front of the ruined temple, staring at the stone monument with all the names carved on it. The rain, heavy earlier, had slowed to a drizzle. Nihlus pulled his hood further over his head and shivered.

They didn't say anything. Nihlus figured they'd been there for about an hour. The incense that Saren lit earlier had been snuffed out by the rain, the thin trail of smoke long since vanished.

Nihlus noticed that there were no other tributes, no other small things left at the base of the memorial. It'd been that way last year as well. What was it Saren had said—twelve years? Twelve years had passed, and it looked like Saren was the only one still remembering the dead in the ashes of Temple Palaven.

Well, one of them in particular.

He'd asked once, if Saren could show him a photo of his brother. He'd looked on his own, but everything related to Saren and his past and his family was classified.

"It's that way for most Spectres," Saren had explained. "Even if they don't have any surviving family, or any ties to home, it's important that people not be able to uncover anything they may be able to exploit."

Nihlus snorted. "If anyone wanted to get to my family, they'd have to make it through the worst of Madra's slums first."

Desolas looked a lot like Saren. Even though the general was darker in coloring—a grey not unlike the color of Palaven's skies right now— and wore Palaveni markings that divided his face in bold swaths of blue, Nihlus could tell that he was Saren's brother. They both had the long cheek spines—an unusual genetic characteristic that ran in the Arterius family, Saren told him—the same wide mandibles, and the same intense expression on their faces.

Nihlus half wondered what Saren would look like if he'd received his colony markings.

Not like he'd ever find out.

And as they stood unspeaking in the rain, Nihlus pictured Desolas being here right now. Palaveni, of course, believed in spirits—individual and collective. Nihlus wasn't sure what, if anything, he believed in. But maybe, between the yearly visits and the incense and the offerings and the memories, there was something of Saren's brother here in the rain.

The wind picked up, driving rain into Nihlus's face. Water dripped from the tips of his mandibles and ran into his collar.

"Nihlus."

Nihlus glanced at Saren. Saren had taken his eyes off the monument for the first time since they've arrived.

"I'm recommending you to the Council as a Spectre. I sent the letter last night."

"—"

"Congratulations." Saren reached out, hesitated, and placed a hand on Nihlus's shoulder. Nihlus flinched at the sudden touch, and Saren withdrew. Almost immediately, Nihlus wished he hadn't.

"I—ok." It was the only thing he was able to spit out. The only thing that could get past the sudden tangle of fear that blocked his throat. Nihlus bobbed his head, trying to turn the motion into a nod.

Maybe Saren picked up on his anxiety, because he continued. "I recommended you because you have earned this position. You've succeeded at every challenge you've had; you conducted yourself excellently in your solo missions. You have come so far in two years. And I have no doubt that you'll continue to learn and grow. I'm proud to have been your teacher."

He couldn't look at Saren. All those words—he knew that Saren wouldn't've said them out of kindness. Every single word was true. And Nihlus knew it was irrational that his brain was suddenly screaming that Saren wanted him gone, out of his life, sent away to be a Spectre on his own.

This was ridiculous. Nihlus should be feeling triumph right now. He'd _done_ it. Made Saren proud, showed the Council that he was worth it, and had the opportunity to show the galaxy as well.

But he wasn't. Stupid, because staying with Saren forever wasn't an option and he knew it, but they worked together so _well_ and maybe they could've been partners, like Saren said sometimes Spectres did and maybe—

"Yeah." It was all he could think to say. And to push it off, that moment when he would have to face being alone. "Wanna get dinner?"

 

Dinner was nice. Quiet. Nihlus mostly ignored the food, and sipped at his drink.

Last year, that had been good. Apart from the bit where they'd been standing at a memorial honoring Saren's dead brother, but the rest had been good. Nihlus had left Palaven last year with a newfound understanding and respect for Saren, and a newfound determination to make the man proud and be the best Spectre candidate he could be.

And here he was, in a restaurant with Saren, having accomplished his goal. He tipped back the remains of his drink, and refilled his glass from the bottle.

Saren seemed content with the silence. Nihlus squirmed in his seat. He wasn't drunk enough yet. And probably wouldn't be, considering the look Saren gave him every time he took a swallow. Nihlus grumbled under his breath. Looked like getting Saren drunk last year was a miracle that would not be repeated.

They walked back to their hotel, Nihlus under his own power, swaying only a little bit. When they got there, Nihlus considered climbing into Saren's bed and snuggling up with him, but he was definitely not drunk enough to pass it off as an accident.

He tossed and turned in his own bed instead.

 

"Nihlus? We should go soon."

"I know! I just need a moment." Nihlus leaned over the bathroom sink, staring at himself in the mirror. He wouldn't've recognized himself a few years ago. His plates were sleek, not dull, and he wore expensive armor polished to the hilt. He also wore a stole draped over his shoulders, in Taetrus's colors. A maroon field, with patterns of white that mimicked his colony markings. It stood out against his black armor.

"Nihlus!" The bathroom door opened, and Saren poked his head in. "Are you read—oh."

He stepped in, and Nihlus watched his uneasy look reflected in the mirror.

"Are you sure you want to wear that?" Saren asked after a moment. "That's a very…strong statement."

"I have to," Nihlus said. "I'm not going to let myself forget where I came from. I can't."

Saren simply nodded, and stepped back. Nihlus turned to face him, taking in the sight of Saren's ceremonial garb. He was a pillar of white—white armor, headscarf, fabric draped around him. He wore a row of decorations on his chest. Nihlus tilted his head. "I thought Spectres didn't get decorated."

"They don't," Saren said. "These are from when I was in the military." Crowning the row of colors was the silver Star of Palaven, catching the light whenever Saren moved.

Nihlus turned back to the mirror again, taking in the sight of him and Saren standing next to each other. He watched as Saren reached out and placed his hand on Nihlus's shoulder, and this time he did not flinch. "I am proud of you," Saren said.

Nihlus nodded. "Well," he said, "let's do this."

 

The ceremony was quick, efficient. Later, Saren remembered how the light glanced off of Nihlus's shining armor, the twitch to Sparatus's jaw when he saw Nihlus in Taetran colors, a small smile on Tevos's face—their words ringing through the Council chambers; a few other Spectres who were on the Citadel arrayed in the gallery above, watching the newest member of their order with curiosity.

Nihlus looked dignified in a way that Saren had never seen before. He'd come so far—from the angry, insubordinate kid to this, a determined man who understood both what the job required from him and how to accomplish it.

Afterwards, Nihlus talked to each of the Councilors separately. Saren waited in the lobby of the chamber, leaned up against the railing around the fountain. Nihlus came back with his omnitool open.

"So?" Saren asked. "What is it?"

Nihlus shrugged. "Omega. There's a gang the Council wants dealt with, and Aria does too. Shouldn't be too bad."

"You always have to watch your back on Omega," Saren said.

Nihlus looked up with a grin. "That's where you worked me to the bone for the first month. Omega's like that shitty old friend that you punch in the face to say 'hello'."

Saren couldn't help smiling. Nihlus's grin got bigger, and he put his omnitool away and pulled Saren into a hug. Saren, having got used to Nihlus's bone-crushing hugs a long time ago, simply pulled him closer and tucked his face into Nihlus's shoulder. "Be safe," he said.

"Keep in touch, ok?" Nihlus said, his voice muffled against Saren's neck.

"Yes," Saren replied, and they finally separated. Nihlus ran a hand over his fringe.

"Well, I gotta book a transport," he said.

"Go do that," said Saren, and Nihlus looked up.

"You can't come with me? Just down to the station?"

"I need to speak to Ianius," Saren replied.

"Well," Nihlus said, looking awkward, "guess this is good-bye then."

"Not forever," Saren said, and watched as Nihlus made his way to the elevator.

The reality of it didn't sink in until Saren returned to his ship later, and it was cold and empty.

 

"So," Sparatus had said. "Congratulations."

"What are you congratulating me for?" Saren asked.

"For having your first apprentice make it," Sparatus said. "That's noteworthy on its own. I thought you'd never take an apprentice, much less put up with one long enough to make a Spectre out of them."

"It's Nihlus you should be congratulating, not me," Saren said. "He did all the work. I notice you didn't speak to him after the ceremony."

Sparatus flicked a mandible. "Those terrorist decorations went beyond the boundaries of good taste."

"I'd appreciate it if you stopped finding excuses to give my student a hard time."

"He's no longer your student," Sparatus said.

"No," Saren said, "he's not. And don't forget you owe me a favor for taking him on in the first place."

"How long are you going to hold that over my head for?"

"Until I call it in," Saren said. A favor from Ianius was a good thing to have. Saren was pretty sure they were no longer friends, and that meant that he needed all the leverage he could get. Ianius Sparatus could be a bastard when he wanted to, and Saren had learned how to work with that tendency long ago.

A sly smile crossed Sparatus's face. "You don't want another student right away?" he asked. "You could be the next Lenn and train all of them."

"No," Saren said icily. "I need some time. Call me when you need me." With that, he'd turned and left.

Now, sitting in his ship with a cup of tea and silence, Saren considered the conversation again. That last jab from Ianius hurt. He knew that he didn't belong to Ianius anymore; what had once been a tight arrangement had crumbled.

It wasn't like Saren had resented it. After his brother's death, Ianius had taken him under his wing and set about molding him into a tool. A Spectre, yes, but _Ianius's_ Spectre. A powerful force to have when Ianius had been the newest member of the Council and was still proving that he knew what to do with that power.

And for ten long years, Saren hadn't minded this. Encouraged it, in many ways. He'd had reasons of his own. But now that bond had frayed, and Saren was still trying to figure out why. It had something to do with Nihlus.

Saren was his own Spectre now, and part of him was content with this.

With a shock, Saren realized that Ianius Sparatus was _jealous_.

Jealous of what? That he was no longer the forefront in Saren's mind? That Saren now had someone else to dedicate time to? It probably wasn't anything more personal than that, his sexual relationship with Ianius had ended when he was made Spectre, and it wasn't like he'd ever thought of Nihlus that way—

He remembered Lenn interrogating him over his relationship with Ianius.

_"I wanted a friend! And before you go and tell me that Spectres don't have friends_ _—"_

_"Why wouldn't Spectres have friends?" she snapped, furious. "Of course we have friends. We do horrible things for the good of the galaxy and we shouldn't carry that burden alone. We need friends. But friends we can trust! There are very few of those out there. And even fewer the number of them who can understand."_

_"Who are your friends?" he asked, the numbness settling back over his spirit like mist in the morning._

_"I've found that only other Spectres can be trusted," she said gently. "Trusted with those burdens. We all know what we are. We have no illusions about it. That is important." She looked at him. "You understand. You were forced to carry one of those burdens at a very young age."_

_She always knew what to say to shatter him. He pulled away from her, tried to hide the emotions that threatened to spill out of him. It was useless. Lenn always could see right through him._

Saren almost wished that Lenn were here right now. Sometimes it'd seemed like she knew him better than he knew himself.

 

He missed Nihlus.

Missed Nihlus's insights, his unique way of looking at things. His wry comments. The way he liked it when Saren told stories. He missed that small hustle and bustle that came with living with another person.

Missed talking to him, missed spending time with him. Missed sparring. Even missed rolling his eyes over Nihlus's tendency to get drunk and say some pretty absurd things. Missed those bone-crushing hugs, infrequently given as they were.

It wasn't until he was sent to take care of a hostage situation that Saren realized he didn't just miss having Nihlus around, but he'd also come to rely on having Nihlus at his back. He'd forget, move to talk to Nihlus on the com—then stop himself. He kept thinking of ways that two people could've handled things better. He knew how Nihlus would've handled the situation. Saren was an excellent operative, he'd been working on his own for years—but it wasn't until Nihlus was gone that he realized how glaring the absence was.

This couldn't go on.

Saren toyed with the idea of getting Nihlus back. They could be partners; it wasn't unheard of for Spectres to team up. He wasn't sure it would be fair to Nihlus, however. Dragging him back before he'd even completed his first mission. Nihlus deserved some time to work on his own.

But that thought made him unhappy.

 

Omega was as dark and forbidding as ever. Comfortable, in a way. You always knew what to expect.

And what Nihlus expected right now was for someone to be in Afterlife.

The plan was blown when his target for the evening never showed.

Luckily, his backup plan strode into sight just as he was considering leaving. "Preitor Gavorn, nice to see you." Nihlus grinned and shot fingerguns at the barefaced merc.

Preitor grinned back. "I think congratulations are in order," he said, taking a seat next to Nihlus. "There was a story floating around all the Traverse news channels about a Taetran being inducted as Spectre. I take it that was you?"

"I made the news?" Nihlus asked. "Yeah, that was me. Fuck, I made the news. This gets back to my family, they'll disown me for the shame."

Preitor snorted. "You Taetrans are so weird. Anyway, what the hell are you doing here? I feel like a newly-minted Spectre could afford someplace better than Omega."

Nihlus stuck his tongue out. "Aria wants this gang taken out. Luckily for her, the Council does as well. Which is why I'm so glad to see you. Figure a two-bit merc like you would know everything going on in this shithole."

Preitor held up a hand. "Not a merc, not anymore. Working full time for Aria, and I know just the people you're going after. So," he said, "drinks first, or intel first?"

"Drinks, definitely," Nihlus said. "Cheers. To moving up in the world."

 

Two days later, Nihlus had infiltrated the gang, documented their structure and major operations, and started a few rumors designed to tear the whole thing apart.

He stayed the nights at Preitor's new apartment, which was considerably bigger than the last one. They didn't have sex. "I'm kinda with someone these days," Preitor said. Nihlus just shrugged, and deflected conversation back to Omega gossip.

He didn't really mind. It was good to have another friend, someone he could rely on in a scumhole like Omega. Within five days, he'd laid the groundwork to take the gang down permanently. Then he got drunk, went back to Preitor's apartment, and crashed into an empty bed. Preitor was out somewhere for the night.

He didn't really mind. Nihlus figured he wasn't good for much more than a one-night stand, and had never had much desire to sleep with someone on the regular. Nihlus burrowed into the sheets, waiting for the bed to warm up. It wasn't really being alone that bothered him, he decided. It was having that element of certainty removed from his life.

He did kind of mind. Saren had been a refuge, a friend, a home. They knew what to expect from each other, and after the first year, they'd managed to mold their lives around the other.

He really did mind. The possibility of not seeing Saren for a long time galled him. It was beginning to distract him during the day, thinking how Saren would've handled a situation, wondering how they could be more effective as a team. But at night, missing Saren was something much less practical, and much more painful.

A year ago, he'd gotten absurdly drunk, drunk enough to climb into Saren's bed without thinking and snuggle up to him for the night. It wasn't enough to miss Saren in the field—Nihlus missed the whole of him. It was stupid of him to hope for having that whole Saren back.

Nihlus turned over and closed his eyes, washing away into a drunken stupor.

 

Dancing rings around an Omega gang was easy. Disgustingly easy, as a matter of fact. By the time a week passed, Nihlus managed to murder a high-up lieutenant and pin the blame on a discontented faction. Within a day, the gang split up. A few people died.

Nihlus flopped back on Preitor's couch and planned how to approach his last target. The gang's leader, who was pretty smart and would be a problem if left alone. Planning mission stuff took his mind off his personal problems for the moment.

Which were growing larger. Nihlus was pretty sure that messaging Saren and saying "I miss you take me back" would not go down well. It'd been two years. Saren deserved a break from his bullshit. Spectres were supposed to work alone. Saren thought he was ready to be on his own. Etc etc. The thoughts whirled around his mind.

Chief among those thoughts was that he really wanted Saren back in bed again, but this for something besides sleeping off hangovers. Which was stupid of him. Saren was not interested in sex. Nihlus knew this. Nihlus also had never actually wanted someone he knew well. He preferred anonymous or casual hookups. Less trouble for anyone involved. Dealing with these new thoughts…

It didn't matter. Saren wouldn't be interested. And Nihlus wasn't sure how well he would be able to handle things if he was back living with Saren again.

Not that that would happen.

He forced his mind back to the mission at hand and decided that an ambush would be nice. Quick and simple. Drop the body down a mine shaft. If the gang leader ended up a martyr, then things would get out of hand. No. This last piece of the problem needed to disappear, quickly and quietly.

Nihlus wished his own problems would do the same.

 

A week later, Saren broke. He didn't _want_ to talk to Ianius. But here he was, sitting at his desk, waiting for the Councilor to pick up. Saren chewed on a finger. It wouldn't do any good to get angry, he reminded himself. He had to be civil. See this through.

The call connected. "Saren," Sparatus said. "I'm surprised to hear from you so soon."

"I'm calling in that favor," Saren said.

"Oh? And here I was, expecting you to hold that over my head forever. What do you need?"

"I want Nihlus back."

"Kryik? I'm afraid I don't understand. You signed off that his training was complete."

"Not as a student. As a partner."

There was silence on the other end. "I never thought I'd see you asking for anything," Sparatus said finally, "let alone a partner. Well, I see no reason you can't have a partner. Provided, of course, that Kryik is amenable."

"Of course."

"He's finishing up with his own mission. I'll contact him, and if he agrees, you can simply pick him up on Omega."

"Good. Thank you." Saren cut the call. No reason to linger on the line.

He hoped Nihlus would accept.


End file.
